Pain
by fbis.most.unwanted
Summary: Sherlock Holmes had never acknowledged his emotions, and he was fine with that. So, when the detective's world had been shattered and the walls separating him from the harsh world of sentiment came crashing down, Sherlock Holmes fell with them.


Pain [peyn]: _noun_ 1. a physical suffering or distress, as due to injury, illness, etc. 2. A distressing sensation in a particular part of the body. 3. mental or emotional suffering or torment.

Pain could manifest itself in different ways. First, you had the physical, and within the physical, you have a broad spectrum of sensations, varying from a dull ache to an explosion of sharp daggers ripping through your nerves.

Second, and by far the strangest, was the emotional. Emotional distress was so much worse in contrast to a physical sensation. Still, pain is relative. For example, the small prick of a needle is a traumatic experience for a small child, but to an adult, it can barely be felt.

Sherlock Holmes had never been a sentimental man, but that did not mean that emotions were foreign to him. The actual _experience _of sentiment might have been a bit new, though that didn't mean that Sherlock hadn't studied emotions.

He had watched others, which provided the detective with perplexing insights into the realm of human complexity.

It's fascinating to see how such irrational feelings can affect everything else. For example, when sadness is present, a person is less likely to fully enjoy things as they once did, and oppositely, when one is happy, they are even more open to the wonders of this world.

Sherlock had never bothered with such menial things. He preferred to spend his time focusing on more important matters. Puzzles didn't care if you were happy or sad or angry. They were constant, and that was far less time consuming than the web of emotions that twisted and tangled until it became an intertwined web of jumbled feelings.

No one in their right mind had time for such madness. It was not logical, so Sherlock choose not to plunge himself into affairs so detrimental, such as sentiment. It would only slow him down, and Sherlock wanted nothing to do with anything that would hinder his mind from doing its job.

Now, that did not mean that Sherlock had never felt emotions before. He had had his fair share of sentiment, enough for a lifetime. But just because Sherlock had emotions, didn't mean he was obligated to deal with –or acknowledge- them.

Sherlock understood anger, joy, and sadness. They were fairly simple. But it was the pain that always seemed to escape the detective –not the physical, the emotional.

Physical pain was simple. It had a definite cause, and a cure. It was not something triggered by other emotions. It was understood.

It was the mental distress that was always worse, because its cure was not one that drugs or rest could fix. It had its own healing process, the detective supposed, but that process was lengthy and overall not worth Sherlock's precious time –especially when said time could be spent doing other things, more productive things.

Sherlock understood sentiment in theory, but not in practice. Consequently, when something distressing did occur, he had absolutely no idea how to react.

So, when the detective's world had been shattered and the walls separating him from the harsh world of sentiment came crashing down, Sherlock Holmes fell with them.

He had lost track of how long he had spent standing in the corner of the hospital room, neither moving nor speaking. He was sure it must seem odd to the others who've visited, but that wasn't important.

All that mattered was figuring out how he'd gotten here in the first place. Sherlock knew it was locked away in his mind somewhere, but it had been blocked out. It was as though his mind had just shut down, and that worried Sherlock. It cut him off from his only method of reason.

And without reason, what was left?

It was certainly nothing desirable. The monster left behind was tearing a hole inside Sherlock, filling it with darkness, and it was dragging the detective in.

Sherlock Holmes had never been one to rely on something as useless as hope, but with all his logic and deductions stolen away, there wasn't anything else left.

After all, what else was there to turn to when everything useful was gone?

Sherlock could still fix this; he had to be able to. He just had to _think_. He had to remember what happened.

**Thanks for reading! I hope you liked this chapter. I should have the next one up soon. Please leave me a review with your thoughts!**


End file.
